


I'll Give you a Sign...or Five

by I_Come_Alive



Series: Petey is a Mess and Wade is the Best [4]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Wade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And anxiety, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Omega Peter Parker, Peter Has Feelings, Pining, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Come_Alive/pseuds/I_Come_Alive
Summary: There are lots of way to court a potential mate. Some are big gestures, planned over weeks or months, and some are so small, so basic you don't even realize you're doing them.Or: Five times Peter courted Wade, and one time Wade courted Peter.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Petey is a Mess and Wade is the Best [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1340632
Comments: 157
Kudos: 1119





	1. A Show of Strength

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All!! Happy Holidays!   
> I'm back with a new addition to Petey is a Mess and Wade is the Best! I know, I know. It's taken me forever, so everyone make sure to thank ImPanicingAtTheDisco for bribing me into writing with some amazing fanart, which I will try to attach to this fic! 
> 
> So I was thinking that Peter had years between the doombot incident and the very embarrassing mission that finally got him and Wade together. So, of course, those years had to be filled with him being oblivious to omegan and mating customs which makes for cute and awkward courting attempts.
> 
> Enjoy!!

It’s been about a month after Mr. Stark called him into help with the doombot attack, and Peter’s been _bored_. It’s hard to get that Spiderman, saving the world, hard core _rush_ from purse snatchers, wannabe crime bosses, and mini mart robbers after something like that.

He’s been itching for something big, something that will challenge him. And that’s why he begged Happy to come pick him up and take him to the Avengers compound so he can spar with literally anyone who will give him the chance. Steve is usually up for a match. One of his favorite things to do is teach the younger generation how to kick ass.

As they pull up to the building, Peter finishes off his second large McDonald’s fry. He had to beg Happy for twenty minutes before the beta finally gave in.

_Tony won’t like you eating this kind of food, kid,_ he had said. _Leads right to obesity and heart disease._

Peter countered back that he’s _Spiderman_ , his healing factor pretty much makes it impossible for him to get sick and his high metabolism makes even more impossible for him to get fat. And he’s _fifteen_. Not even close to being the age that he needs to worry about that stuff.

So, yeah. Happy eventually gave in and they both got McDonald’s. Peter’s going to have to get him some kind of gift in thanks for putting up with him. He knows that he can be a handful.

Peter loves coming to the compound. Sure, the tower is great, too, with its labs and garages and gyms and so on. But this place has training facilities build just for supers. There are built in training programs designed just for him, and equipment that is made for someone with his strength. Plus, there’s usually a rare Avenger or two hanging around here.

According to Jarvis, Steve and Bucky are already in the training rooms, and Peter heads straight there with a skip in his step, making sure to salute Happy over his shoulder.

“Mr. Parker,” Jarvis’s voice echoes through the hall, “putting on you suit would be of great importance if you do not wish for the trainees to discover your identity.”

Peter pauses halfway down the hall in a comical pose, then spins on his heel to walk back the other direction. “Thanks, Jarvis.”

He has a room here, one he rarely uses, but it does have a few of his suits stored in it along with a comfortable bed and a few necessities. He changes as fast as he can into one of his low-tech suits. He doesn’t want too much help from it, want to feel his muscles burn and his senses sharpen. Then he jogs back the way he came. A few familiar faces pop up around corners to say hi, but Peter doesn’t stay to chat, can’t even make himself.

He feels too hyped up, like if he had spent too much time away from being Spiderman. He hasn’t. He’s been out almost every day since the doombot attack, but there’s a persistent buzzing along his skin that he can’t get rid of, no matter how high or fast he swings, no matter how many criminals he webs up.

He opens the training room door with a little too much force. It smacks against the wall with a resounding band, making him jump a good foot in the air. Heads whip in his direction, many looking ready for a fight. Spider sense sends shivers up and down his body. Peter tries to brush it off, and winces.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, face already feeling hot. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

He’s saved by Cap, good ol’ Cap, who walks forward to greet him with a charming smile. Sometimes Peter is really glad for the mask, because how can he not blush at just about anything Cap does. I mean, come on. He’s like the most perfect alpha that’s ever alphaed.

“It’s no problem, son,” Cam says, blue eyes twinkling. “Happens to me at least once a week. Are you doing okay? Happy said that you were coming by.”

Having Cap’s full attention on his, plus the uncomfortable feeling of too many eyes has the hair along his neck rising. “Uh,” he stammers. “Just feeling a bit…you know.” He makes a weird shimming gesture with his hands that he hopes conveys what he’s feeling. “Thought some sparring might help.”

Cap spreads his arms out wide in excitement. Peter tries and fails not to stare too hard. “Well,” the alpha exclaims, “it’s the perfect day for it! Bucky and I have a special program lined up. We even have another trainer coming in to show different techniques.”

A little grumbling sound has Peter looking about. Bucky’s back in the corner, hunched over what can only be a baby carrier. And even with a baby, he’s got to be the most terrifying person Peter knows. It doesn’t matter that he’s an omega, or that he has soft-looking, long dark hair, or that Peter has seen him cuddled up with Cap in multiple places around the tower and compound. And seriously, if that isn’t goals.

Bucky glares over his shoulder and grumbles out, “He’s late.”

Steve shrugs, optimistic as ever. “Can’t say I’m surprised, Buck, but we’ll get started without him. Come on, kid.”

Peter’s heard Cap’s lessons a few times now, but he still gets sucked in by them. The easy way Cap and Bucky go back and forth, the dynamic drills they put him and the trainees through. Peter thinks that he’s had more experience than most of them, but a few of them almost beat him.

It’s still not really enough. He’s holding back on his strength, pulling his punches and kicks, softening every blow, taking the brute of the damage when they fall or practice take downs. He doesn’t want to seriously hurt these people.

And it’s making him even more keyed up, to always be on edge. And he thinks that Cap can tell. He stands over his shoulder a lot, or nods Bucky over to keep an eye on him. Anxiety creeps up his spine and sours his stomach. All of a sudden, all the different scents of everyone in the room become too much.

Bucky is right by him in an instant. He pulls Peter away from the other trainees and towards where the baby carrier is. He put a barrier up before they started physical training, some kind of force field, Peter thinks, so nothing could touch the little sleeping baby inside.

With a hand on his shoulder, Bucky pushes him to sit next to it. Then the older omega crouches down in front of him. “Listen, Peter,” he says. And that’s all it takes for a wave of panic to wash over him, because how does he know his name? Bucky sighs, rubs at the stubble on his cheek. “Don’t freak out. I was the Winter Soldier. Of course, I know who you are. I wouldn’t have let you in here with my kid if I didn’t.”

Awkward silence hangs in the air as Peter digests that information.

Then, “Steve said that you have frequent panic attacks, so why don’t you just sit here for a bit, calm down.”

Peter is kind of confused or maybe he’s in shock. He’s never heard Bucky talk this much before, kind of didn’t think he really could. He looks from the other omega’s stormy eyes and them over at the little toddler sound asleep in the carrier. “Uh,” he starts, “Actually, I think I’ll go for a walk. Get some fresh air.” He must stand up too fast, because Bucky flinches a little. “Sorry! Sorry. Um, I’ll be back in a little bit, okay? Is that okay? I can come back even if I miss some stuff? I just need to get some air. There’s a lot of smells in here, you know, and I don’t— I don’t really like that.”

The frown between Bucky’s eyebrows gets deeper with every stammered sentence that tumbles out of Peter’s mouth, but he nods anyway.

Peter does a lap around the entire compound, practicing the breathing techniques Bruce has been showing him. When he gets back to the training room, he feels a little better. They’ve started on how to deflect different weapons. Peter usually uses his webbing for that, but he chooses to sit off to the side to watch Cap and Bucky demonstrate different strategies.

He hasn’t even been there five minutes before the door is once again being slammed open, this time by someone other than him. The familiar scent hits him first, causing his cramped stomach to loosen into a warm goo, and his agitated fidgeting to settle. He’s glad that he’s already crouched down into a comfortable, spider-like pose, or else his legs might have given out yet again.

“EEEYY OOOH! Deadpool in the house!!!”

A large red and black clad man slides into the room. A man that he would know in an instant, because only about a month ago, Peter made a complete idiot of himself in front of him, and he still doesn’t really get _why_.

And he can’t think about it now. Cap starts to introduce Deadpool to the other trainees. “He’s going to help us with some different techniques today. He’s had plenty of experience, including working with the X-Men and Avengers.”

The others welcome him, excited and nervous, but Peter feels like he’s in some kind of weird limbo state that doesn’t break until the large alpha claps his hands together with a loud slap. Peter straightens up, alert and focused just in time to see Deadpool wave excitedly _right_ _at him_.

“Hey there Spidey!” the alpha shouts. “Remember me?” Then he mumbles something at his shoulder region, too quiet for Peter to hear.

He opens his mouth, closes it because his tongue feels like a limp, dried out sponge or something. Plan B is a jerky nod and a little wave back, which makes him feel like a total idiot.

Cap and Bucky dive right back into the lesson, which Peter is so grateful for because his spidey sense is tingling from all the eyes darting between him and Deadpool. If Spiderman didn’t get their attention, knowing a world-famous mercenary does. Well, Peter doesn’t really _know_ him (and isn’t that a shame, because something about this guy makes Peter feel _different_ ), but they don’t know that.

It isn’t until Deadpool takes the floor that Peter really perks up to listen. 

“Alright, so everyone knows that bad guys usually use weapons. I mean, unless your fighting like some wizard or alien or some shit, right?”

A few other trainees snort, Cap already looks like he’s regretting the decision to bring this other alpha in, and Bucky, well he looks somewhere in between. But Peter nods back, says, “Right.” because Deadpool is an alpha, and he asked a question, and the omega in him wanted to answer.

Peter shakes himself out of it, jumps in place, shakes out his hands. He doesn’t really like when he gets like that, still finds it weird. Like there’s something in him that’s not quite in his control. He almost snorts at that. With his still newish spidey powers, constant anxiety, and frequent panic attacks, you’d think he’d be used to not being in total control of himself.

The trainees and him end up pairing up and going in the center of the room one by one to spar and practice moves that Deadpool yells at them. He sounds like he’s having the time of his life, bossing around a bunch of teenagers. He laughs gleefully when anyone lands a good hit, or blocks and dodges at the right time.

Peter might be showing off a bit throughout the whole thing. With the alpha watching, it’s hard not to. So, he uses just a bit more strength, a bit more agility, listens to his spidey sense every time it tingles. By the time he’s has won his third round, he feels kind of high from all the praise the alpha throws at him. And then Deadpool decides its time for a real challenge, and steps into the center of the room himself. He’s got a gun out now, and the scent of _uncomfortable, nervous,_ _excited_ permeates the room.

Cap, who had gone over to feed his baby, rushes back. The toddler squeaks in his arms, makes grabby hands at the baggie of fruit that’s too far out of his reach. Still, Cap looks like he’s on a warpath. Deadpool still coos when the two alphas are a foot apart.

“How’s the little one doing?” he asks in a high-pitched baby voice. “Still disappearing and turning blue?” Peter can’t tell if he’s serious or not. He hasn’t been around so much that he’s seen anything abnormal with Cap and Bucky’s baby. What with school and patrols and all of Tony and Aunt May’s rules, he doesn’t get a lot of time to just hang around. But he knows that the toddler is adopted from a mutant orphanage, so it might be possible for her to disappear and turn blue. Who knows?

Cap rolls his eyes. “You aren’t using a real gun.”

“It’s got rubber bullets!”

Bucky comes up next to them. “Take them out. You’re only doing this with an empty mag.”

The three of them stand off, and Peter starts to fidget again, starts to feel his heart beating too fast. Sweat beats along his skin under his mask. Peter groans internally. If he has to step outside again and miss this, he’s going to be so pissed.

But then Deadpool throws up his hands. “Okay! Okay! Don’t need to sick Robocop on me, jeez. No bullets. Just pretend.” Wade glances over his shoulder at them and winks. The scent of nerves heightens yet again. “Okay, who wants to be first?”

And, of course, because Peter barely has any self-control, he lunges forward, almost knocking into Bucky in his excitement and nerves to get in the center of the room first. Bucky looks slightly concerned, but Deadpool seems almost as excited as Peter, himself.

“Spidey!!” the shriek of his name is accompanied by a little hop and twirl. “This is perfect! We made such a good team last time that we should be great sparring partners.” He turns towards the small crowd of trainees, but Peter’s left a little stunned, that high feeling is back. He tries to physically shake himself out of it. “You all better watch closely. Spidey’s got a head up on you all, saving the city every night from bad guys.”

They set up to fight, and are about to start until Cap calls out, “Wilson, the mag.”

With the world’s most despairing sigh, Deadpool takes the mag out of his gun and tosses is over. Cap catches it with one hand then sets it down next to the baby carrier.

Peter watches the whole thing feeling tingly, impatient, but its not the same feeling that he came here with. It’s more excited and somewhat nervous. He wants to prove himself, spar against Deadpool and win, show that even though he’s just a small fry in the world of supers, that he’s stronger and more skilled than most.

“Okay,” the alpha says, twirling his empty gun around a finger. “So, I’m thinking you’re like a level seven maybe eight.”

Peter’s mouth drops open. _Only a seven? Maybe an eight? Peter can lift thousands of pounds. He fights criminals every night, and other crazy, oddball criminals. He’s a nine. At least._

Deadpool quickly raises his hands up in a placating manner. “Which is great Spidey! Really impressive stuff! So, I’m only going to take it a teensy-tiny bit easy on you.” He holds up his hands, thumb and index finger a hair apart.

Peter huffs, crosses his arms. He doesn’t care how— how _big_ this alpha is, he’s going to kick his ass. Show him just how much he doesn’t need him to take it easy on him.

The trainees that surround them take a few steps backwards, giving them some more space. The joking, carefree aura coming from Deadpool changes to something darker. The hair along Peter’s arms stand on end. His spidey sense buzzes along down his spine like a shiver. The gooey feeling in his stomach hardens for a moment, then turns back to jelly.

He’s going to have to do some research about that, look back at his notes from when he first was bitten. He can’t remember that ever happening to him before.

The alpha doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give him time to prepare, but Peter is ready. So, when the gun gets whipped out from behind the alpha’s large back, Peter jumps back and _thwips_ out a web. But the alpha somehow dodges it.

“ _Ah. Ah. Ah_ ,” he taunts. “I saw that coming from a mile away Spidey. Try to be more unpredictable.”

Peter grumbles, hind of wants to burry his head in the sand. His cheeks are burning under his mask, but he plants his feet, readies himself, and then springs into the air. He acts like he intends to jump right over the alpha’s head, but twists in midair and wraps his legs around Deadpool’s neck.

It’s a move he learned from Natasha. He hasn’t tried in on anyone outside of the training rooms, thinks that if he did this to a regular criminal on the street, he’d break their neck right off the bat. He expects Deadpool to fall over, or at least to become unsteady, but the large alpha barely moves.

For a second, Peter is shocked, stunned. _What does he do now?_ He’s practically sitting on the alpha’s enormous shoulders like some strange piggy-back ride.

_Are they going to end up in this position every time they see each other_?

The alpha moves in the next moment, and Peter’s training kicks in. Tightening his legs around the alpha, he pulls himself backwards. This time he uses enough of his strength to take the alpha with him.

It’s enough that they both land flat on their backs, the air rushing out of them from the impact of hitting the padded floor with so much force. Peter squirms out from under the alpha and springs up right away.

Deadpool stays down, groaning. “Holy fucking super strength, Batman.”

The gun is still clutched in the alpha’s hand, but with a well aimed kick, it goes skidding across the floor. Victory has him smiling wide under his mask. _Level seven, kiss my ass_.

It takes another minute or two for Deadpool to finally get up. Peter can’t help rolling his eyes at all the exaggerated groans and grunts. He didn’t use that much strength, did he?

“Now that is what I call a take down!” Deadpool exclaims, on his feet at last. “I think you broke at least six bones, not counting my hand.” The alpha holds up said hand, the one that Peter kicked to get the gun out of. The fingers look distinctly mangled.

Peter’s stomach drops and sours at the same time. Cold sweat breaks out across his skin. “I—I what? I broke—”

The eyes of Deadpool’s mask grow big. “Hey! Whoa! It’s alright, Spidey. I’m already healed up. No worries.”

When Peter still doesn’t calm down, the alpha lays his large, warm hand on top of the omega’s head. “You can’t take these things so seriously, Spidey.” His voice is the same deep tone he used while ordering Peter to _Get up!_ all those weeks ago. It makes Peter immediately perk up and listen. “This is what practice is for. And see, look,” he waves his hand in front of Peter’s face. “All better.”

Still Peter mumbles out a shy, “Sorry,” and hurries back to his place in the circle of trainees. He doesn’t really feel like sparring anymore, but he does stay and watch the other trainees fight Deadpool until Happy comes to take him back home. He learns a bunch a new combination moves, how to dismantle a gun in record time, and that really doesn't want to wait another whole month to see this alpha again.


	2. An Offer of Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooo 
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone!! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read, commented, left kudos, and subscribed! I always find it so amazing how much you like my little stories about these two (and that I'm not the only one who's obsessed about them). 
> 
> Enjoy this brand spankin' new chapter! :D

Peter doesn’t see Deadpool for an entire year. Most of the time, he doesn’t think about the large, red and black, costumed alpha with a scent that makes his knees buckle and his stomach turn to pudding. He’ll go weeks without one single thought of him and then _bam_! He’ll smell something that reminds him of the alpha. Something cinnamony, fiery, dangerous, warm, and then he’ll spend a whole week trying to break through Mr. Stark’s security to stealthily look up Deadpool’s whereabouts.

Is it weird?

Of course not. He just thinks that the guy is really cool. And fun. He’s always got two long swords and a million other weapons on his person. He wears a red and black Kevlar suit almost as cool as Peter’s Spiderman suits. He jokes a lot, and okay, yeah, he makes Peter feel weird. Like calm but tingly at the same time.

So, maybe, yeah. It’s all a little weird for him to be doing this.

Even Peter has been getting annoyed with himself about it. He’s never gotten this way about anything or anyone. It’s a problem. He feels like a stalker. And not _the I’m following this suspicious looking person because they might have a weapon in their pocket, and they smell a little too angry to be normal_ kind of stalking that he does every other night. But the _I have a crush on this person, and they didn’t show up to school today and now my whole day is ruined_ kind of stalking.

But it’s because of that stalking that Peter knows Deadpool has been out of the country for almost the whole year. Turkey, Rome, even Japan. And it’s also because of that stalking that Peter knows Deadpool is back in the city.

And that he’s been back in the city for almost a _whole week_.

Peter was hoping that the alpha would look for him. That they’d meet up mid-fight, Peter looking badass taking down a baddie in his Spidey suit, and Deadpool shouting encouragements from the side lines before jumping in to help. But this isn’t another training session, and there hasn’t been an alien or robot invasion in months.

So, he waits and watches. Like the creepy stalker that he’s become. He thinks that he does a pretty good job of it. He’s only almost gotten caught twice. Natasha would be proud. Not that he’s ever going to tell her about this.

It’s on the fourth day that Peter finally breaks. What if the alpha leaves again and Peter won’t see him for another year? What if he’s gone even _longer_ than a year? What if he’s already forgotten about Spiderman?

Even the thought makes Peter cringe and rub at the burning feeling in his chest.

Peter’s never been a quitter. So, he shucks on his Spidey suit that night, slips out his window, and swings over to where he’s spotted ( _stalked_ ) Deadpool a few times. He drops down in front of a busy taco truck and takes his place at the back of the line. Some of the other people throw dirty looks over their shoulder at him, most are too engrossed in themselves to notice the colorful hero behind them.

It doesn’t really bother him anymore. The stares and glares and whispering. The snapping of pictures and spikes of scents, laced with different emotions, good and bad. He tries to ignore it all and studies the menu instead.

There’s no sign of the costumed alpha, but Peter did leave a little early. People walk by with steaming bags of food, the smells making the omega’s stomach rumble. It makes it hard to search out the distinct smell of Deadpool. The spicy, fiery smell of Mexican food so close to that smokey scent the alpha gives off.

Peter mentally groans at himself. _Pathetic_. He’s been around the alpha what—two times plus the last three days of _studying_ him, and his scent is already ingrained in his memory.

“Two steak tacos, two chimichangas, nachos with everything, and four churros, please,” Peter says when he finally gets to the window. The woman barely looks at him as Peter slides his Stark credit card over to her.

_Thank you, Mr. Stark._

His mentor would probably freak if he knew that he was buying food for Deadpool. He got the impression that the billionaire doesn’t like the loud-mouthed alpha. Oh man, if he knew about Peter’s _research_ on the alpha, he’d probably take away his suit, or ban him from the tower, or worse, he’d tell Aunt May.

And that is not a conversation he wants to have with his aunt. Or anyone, really.

By the time he’s collected the bags of greasy food, Peter still hasn’t spotted the alpha. The heavy feeling in his chest and stomach throbs like it’s trying to tell him how bad of an idea this was.

“It’s fine,” he mutters to himself as he walks into a dark alley and climbs up the side of the building. “I’m fine. There’s no need to have a stupid panic attack. I’m just gonna sit up here, eat some tacos. Maybe Deadpool will show up and I’ll offer him some, or maybe I’ll eat all of it by myself then go kick some bad guy butts. It doesn’t matter. Not a big dealio.”

The tacos are delicious. Full of spicy flavors that settle the awful feeling in his chest. It makes sense that Deadpool always comes here for food. There are a million places to eat in New York City. He thinks that this has got to be one of the best. Of course, he hasn’t gone to any of the fancy places, but whatever.

It’s when he’s unwrapping the nachos that Karen, the AI that Mr. Stark installed into his new suit, pipes up.

“Deadpool spotted.”

Even with all the people, the alpha stands out. It would be impossible for him not to. With him being so _big_. Heat rises to the omega’s cheeks.

“Get a hold of yourself, Parker,” he grumbles. He needs to play this cool.

The alpha is standing in line for the taco truck. Peter sits there, legs dangling off the side of the roof, mildly transfixed as Deadpool seems to talk animatedly too himself, arms flailing around and everything.

He places the nachos in his lap, brushes the grease off his hands. “Okay. Okay. You can do this.”

_He’s really got to stop talking to himself._

“Just do it. Just—”

A string of web flies from his wrist before he even fully registers it. It’s aimed right for the back of Deadpool’s head. Peter screeches a little in surprise and panic. Hopefully it’s too quiet for anyone below to hear.

But the web doesn’t hit Deadpool like Peter thought it would. No, because he deafly turns and slices it in two with one of his swords. People scream and back away from the alpha, but Deadpool doesn’t seem to notice or care. Peter gapes. When did he even get his sword out? How did he know? What just happened? He watches with wide eyes as Deadpool looks down at the cut web, and then right up at Peter like he knew he was there the entire time.

“Oh my god,” Peter whisper, mortified. “What’s wrong with me?” Now Deadpool probably thinks that Peter is trying to attack him or something.

Before he can begin to think about how to fix this, Deadpool squeals loud enough that Peter can hear him all the way up on the roof. The alpha points up at him and waves. He’s yelling something, too, but Peter can’t make out the words. He waves back, then holds up the bag of food with the chimichangas he got for the man.

Deadpool covers his mouth with a hand and then gestures to himself. _For me?_ Peter interoperates it to mean. He nods back, gives a thumbs up just to be safe. Deadpool pretends to faint right in the middle of the crowd.

A chuckle leaves Peter’s mouth, before he remembers that that’s what he did the first time he met the alpha. _Fainted right at the first whiff of his scent._ If he’s making fun of him…well, he can kiss his chimichangas goodbye.

Besides that happened like an entire year ago. It doesn’t even count anymore, right? Deadpool’s probably forgotten about it, anyway. Peter sure has. It’s in the past. Doesn’t even matter anymore. _Did he faint in front of Deadpool while fighting a hoard of Doombots? Psh. No. Must have been some other guy_.

“Was that a web, or were you just happy to see me?”

Peter jumps a good foot in the air. Thank god that he hadn’t taken another bite of food, or he would have choked on it.

“Wha—?”

How’d he get up here so fast? What is Peter even supposed to say now? Oh my god, he was so not prepared for this yet. _Abort! Abort!_

Karen’s voice disrupts his panic. “Peter, your heart rate has raised to an alarming rate. Should I activate—”

“No!” Peter shouts. “Don’t activate anything, Karen.”

Remembering where he is, who he’s with, Peter freezes. Deadpool is halfway to sitting down on the edge of the roof top next to him. His heart pounds faster, his blush has to be bright enough to see through his mask.

“Not you!” Peter rushes out. “I have an AI. In my suit. She’s annoying. Always like _Activate Instant Kill!_ at everything. And I’m like I don’t wanna kill anyone! I swear I don’t want to kill you, or hurt you, or anything! I was just trying to get your attention.” Even with the mask over his face, Peter can see that Deadpool’s mouth is hanging open, his eyes bugging.

 _Oh, god_.

“So that we can hang out! Cause you’ve been gone for forever.” Sweat is rolling down his back, like he just got done fighting five baddies at once. “Not that I’ve been, like, paying attention or anything! I just noticed. And I—uh. I got you your favorite!”

Peter thrusts the bag with the chimichangas a little too forcefully at the alpha. It makes the man plop down fully. He’s still hasn’t said anything. Probably, because Peter’s already ruined this. He’s ruined it and now the alpha is going to avoid him for life, and—

“My favorite, huh?” The alpha says, voice sounding a little strained. “Done your research, Spidey?”

He takes the bag from Peter, and snatches one of the chimichangas out, not wasting anytime unwrapping it and taking a bite. There are strange looking scars on the lower half of the alpha’s face where his mask is pushed up, but the omega can barely concentrate on that, because he’s eating the food Peter got him. And relief floods his system, enough for him to take a deep breath. One that’s full of the scent of the alpha, of cinnamon and fire.

Peter slumps forward over the container of nachos still sat in his lap. He can feel Deadpool studying him, probably wondering just how crazy he really is. He mutters to himself like he always does. But that’s okay, because that weird, gooey feeling is filling him, his tense muscles are relaxed, the thoughts that were racing through his head slow to something manageable.

Deadpool bumps his shoulder into his. “You okay there, Spidey?” His voice is soft, gentle.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I get, um. I just get like that sometimes.”

_A lot of the time._

Deadpool snorts. “Hey, I’m not judging, Spidey. And, trust me. You’ve got nothing on this old merc.”

A smile stretches across Peter’s face, and he finally looks over at the alpha fully. He smells happy, _excited_ even, but mostly confused, surprised.

“Thanks for these, by the way,” Wade says, holding up the now empty bag. “I could never turn down food from my fav Avenger.”

The gooey, floating feeling intensifies. “Not an Avenger.”

Deadpool gasps, sounding affronted. “How could Iron Buns not make you an Avenger?”

_Too young. Too inexperienced. Too emotional. Too rash._

“Mr. Stark has a billion reasons. He’s really overprotective.”

Deadpool scoffs, mutters something that sounds like, “ _I would be, too_ ,” then turns back to Peter with a wide smile. “Then you’re my fav super, I guess.”

Peter thinks his brain short circuits, but he tries to shake it off. It takes a few seconds too long, but eventually, he’s able to say, “Thanks. You’re pretty cool, too.”

A weird sound leaves the alpha. Something Peter can only describe as _cooing_.

It makes something weird go through him, kind of like what his scent does, but not exactly. Whatever it is, it’s to much. So, he does what any normal person would do: ignores it and shoves another bag of food at the merc.

“I got churros, too. And nachos.”

They eat the rest of the food, disrupted only by soft conversation. Peter feels like he sucks at it, little sparks of anxiety run through him every few minutes, but they settle fast. It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in a long time. Since before he started junior year, before he met Mr. Stark, before Uncle Ben passed, even before he got bitten by that radioactive spider.

And he doesn’t want to let it go, he doesn’t want the alpha to leave.

But Deadpool does, with a million air kisses and promises to do this again soon.

“Peter, there is an armed robbery in progress on fourth street,” Karen speaks up.

He sighs, still feeling floaty and soft. “Time to get to work, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there a 4th st in New York? Is it anywhere near where Spidey would be?   
> I have no idea, and I'm too lazy to look it up lol 
> 
> Hoped you all liked it! Until next time <3


	3. A Hint of a Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyyyy, so I deleted the old Chapter 3. I decided that it wasn't right for this fic, that it didn't fit in, and I have no idea how to fix it right now. So here's the new Chapter 3. 
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe out there! <3
> 
> And as always, if you have anything you'd like to see in this fic, throw it at me in the comments. I love hearing your ideas and getting inspiration form them

Peter might not have paid a whole lot of attention in the mandatory health classes at school, but he’s not completely clueless. He knows that scent plays a big part in relationships. From the time of birth, babies essentially hook on to their parent’s scents. Just the smell of them can turn a screaming baby into the sweetest thing anyone has ever seen. And he knows from experience that it’s hard to stay friends with people whose scent hits you the wrong way.

And from the way he reacts to a certain alpha, it’s obvious that scents play an even bigger part in romantic relationships. Though with his lack of experience, he can’t say much more. Not that any of that is on his mind when he hurries to slip on a random sweatshirt over his Spidey suit before heading out the specially designed window at the Avenger’s tower.

He’s been cooped up inside since early last night. A thunderstorm hit, big enough that some of the Avengers spent hours trying to see if it was foul play, if some mutant or scientist or alien was attacking. Peter wouldn’t even be the least bit surprised if that were the case, but they found nothing, and he spent the night watching America’s Next Top Model with Clint and then kind of went crazy in the labs with Mr. Stark this morning.

He made a spider-like robot as big as the palm of his hand. Besides looking adorable and fitting in well with his costume, the robot can play music, access Google, function as an alarm clock, and a bunch of other stuff, including a homing beacon incase he’s in trouble (Mr. Stark’s idea).

He really should have been working on fixing the heat regulators in his suit, the ones that keep him warm or cool depending on the weather, but robots. And that’s why he grabs the sweatshirt, barley thinking about it as he jumps out the window, yelling, “Bye, guys!” over his shoulder.

Swinging around the city, he just enjoys himself. Letting out woops of excitement and breathing in the fresh air, still heavy with the smell of rain. The entire time, his new little robot spider sits on his shoulder, all eight legs clinging to the fabric of his sweatshirt.

He stops a few smaller baddies and helps too many cats out of trees before he decides to take a little break. It can’t be more than ten minutes after situating himself on a rooftop that his biggest crush (aka Deadpool) shows up.

It’s not really a surprise anymore. More often than not Deadpool will find him or visa versa. It’s been happening for a little over a year, long enough that he’s even starting to call him Wade (squeal) instead of Deadpool, and though he’s not surprised by any of the team ups anymore, he still gets flustered, still gets the butterflies and the blushing and the nervous stuttering. Still gets both calm and high and _weird_.

He was annoyed about if for months, thought it would’ve gone away by now so he can finally act normal around the alpha, but nope. Now he’s just resigned. This happens. Every single time. He’s dealing with it.

“Hey, Wade,” Peter says, probably a bit too enthusiastically, but whatever.

Or he thinks that it’s whatever, until Wade doesn’t greet him back like he usually does. No, _Hey, Spidey!_ No, _How’s my fav super?_ Or even, a very off-key rendition of _Baby’s Got Back_ that never fails to turn Peter into a blushing, stuttering, embarrassing mess.

Instead the alpha stands there, nose pointed in the air as if he’s scenting something, the eyes of his mask squinted in consideration. Peter shuffles nervously. Just when Peter thinks he’s about to have another meeting with his best friend, anxiety, Wade finally asks, “What are you wearing?” in the most serious tone Peter’s ever heard him use.

Immediately, his guard is up, his heart is in his throat. He stares down at the barrowed hoodie in question and wants to burry himself in it.

 _Seriously, Parker?_ he scolds himself. _Get a grip._

He takes a breath, one deep enough that he can smell the emotions coming off the alpha. _Confusion. Surprise_. Peter’s eyebrows crinkle together, his head tips to the side, unconsciously baring his neck.

“Um, it’s a sweatshirt,” he says, voice small and quiet. He clears his throat like there’s something besides nerves blocking it. “It was at the tower. In one of the closets. I just grabbed it, cause it’s kinda cold out, you know? Is there something wro—”

“Nope!” Wade practically yells, startling Peter so bad that he has to stick his feet to the side of the building to keep from jumping right off. “Just surprised that Stark hasn’t thrown it away. I lost it years ago. Or maybe it was months ago?” Wade looks off to the side and mumbles, “When was the last time we were at the tower?”

While Wade’s talking with himself, Peter’s brain is in overdrive. This is Wade’s sweatshirt? As in he’s wearing Wade’s clothes right now? _Oh, my god._ He finally starts paying attention to the hoodie he put on. It’s plan black, huge, goes past his butt and floats around him in the breeze with long sleeves that he’s pushed up to his elbows. There’s nothing special about it, except for the fact that it’s freaking Deadpool’s.

Should he take it off, give it back? He doesn’t want to, really doesn’t want to now that he knows it belongs to Wade. It’s probably super creepy to do, but after a glance at the alpha, seeing him completely distracted by himself, Peter tucks his nose down into the color of the hoodie and breaths in deep.

It’s subtle. Covered up by the smell of stale closet and a mix of the Avenger’s scents. But it’s there. Cinnamon and fire and guns and a little bit of blood.

He must get a little bit lost in it (of course he does), because Wade clears his throat. Loudly. He’s staring at him when Peter looks over, the eyes of his mask almost comically wide, and now Peter kind of wants to jump off the building and swing until the lights of the city fade away. Could he ever not embarrass himself in front of Wade? Is he even trying not to anymore?

Already he’s pulling his arms out of the sleeves, getting ready to take it off. “I—I can take it off. I didn’t realize it was yours. I’m sorry.”

Wade claps him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Spidey. Don’t want you getting cold out here,” he says, even goes as far as to help Peter tug the sweatshirt back into place, and if that doesn’t make his insides turn to complete goo, then he’s the biggest liar to ever lie. “Tell me about his little guy on your shoulder! So cute.”

Peter takes the change of subject like it’s a life vest. He’d happily talk about his little robot over him accidently wearing the alpha’s sweatshirt and smelling it right in front of said alpha like some kind of creepy stalker that he swore to himself he wasn’t going to be anymore. “He still needs a name,” Peter starts, and then goes on to tell Wade how he made him in painful detail.

Wade _oohs_ and _ahhs_ at the right moments. And it isn’t long before the calm from being in the alpha’s presence takes place, until his muscles relax, and his finger stop twisting the ends of the hoodie sleeves together. But once he’s done, and they’re back on the streets searching for baddies, his mind starts racing.

Peter might be kind of clueless when it comes to relationships and all that, but he knows that scent plays a big part of it. He knows that Aunt May and Uncle Ben would always smell like each other, that Mr. Stark always has hints of his mates’ scents on him, and that Steve and Bucky smell more like one single scent than two different ones. He knows that even if he sits on one of the couches in the tower, he’ll pick up traces of everyone who’s sat there before him.

He knows that he must smell a little bit like Wade from wearing the hoodie.

And that Wade doesn’t seem to mind at all.

What he doesn’t know is why Wade doesn’t mind. Is it because they’re friends now and it’s no big deal? Is it because the alpha is just being nice, some part of his alpha brain telling him that an omega like Peter shouldn’t be cold? It is because Wade wants Peter to smell like him?

The last thought has his stomach lurching, his vision blurring. Peter looks over at Wade, who’s deep into explaining the cakes in every episode of _Nailed It!_ that he binge watched during the storm. His little spider robot, now named Bubbles, sits on the alpha’s large shoulder. Peter sighs. Why can’t alphas be easier to understand?

The question of why Wade is letting him wear his sweatshirt plagues him all through the rest of their nightly patrol, and even more when it’s time for them to go their separate ways. Wade doesn’t ask for his hoodie back, doesn’t even mention the hoodie at all. Since that night, it lays over the back of Peter’s desk chair in his room, and Peter thinks about it for weeks until it becomes another part of his belongings, until it stops smelling even a little bit like Wade’s and starts smelling like his.


	4. The Giving of a Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!! Chapter Four is here!!! 
> 
> Inspired by a suggestion from moondustriver and because my birthday was this week. Happy Birthday to me!
> 
> Enjoyy :D

It’s Wade’s birthday today. Him and Wade are friends. So, Peter’s going to bring him a present.

Not a big deal.

The box is already wrapped is sparkly Captain America themed wrapping paper, sitting on the edge of his bed, all ready to go when Peter finally gets up enough nerve to slip his mask on and climb out into the night. He’s already fifteen minutes late to where him and Wade usually meet up. If he doesn’t leave soon, Wade will probably go on patrol without him.

Peter tries to shake off his ever-present nerves with a few stretches and breathing techniques that he learned from Dr. Banner. Sometimes it helps. Unfortunately, this time it does nothing, but he grabs the sparkling box and swings out of the window anyway.

He’s been stressing about this day since last month. Wondering about what he should do for Wade. If he should do anything at all. Wade hasn’t mentioned anything about his birthday. In fact, no one has, but Peter remembers it from his information gathering (stalking) days. It’s the first time that Wade’s been in the city for his birthday. Usually, he’s out of country on a job or what not, but this time he’s here, in NYC.

He’s had a hard time deciding what to do about it. For his birthday, Aunt May usually takes him, Ned, and MJ out for lunch, and then him and his friends will do whatever, but going to lunch with Wade is a little too much, right? That’s like a date.

Peter mentally gives the middle finger to the butterflies in his stomach.

So, he settled on a present, and a hopefully exciting night of patrol. He spots Wade as he swings from one building to another. The large alpha sits on the edge of their usual rooftop, feet swinging and head bopping along to an unheard song. Or maybe the voices in his head are chatty today.

Peter sighs dreamily like one of those ladies from the old movies Aunt May likes to watch. He used to roll his eyes at them, but now he gets it. Wade is already turning around when he touches down on the roof top. The alpha always somehow knows when he’s close. And if that thought doesn’t send another swarm of butterflies through his stomach, he’d be lying.

“There’s my favorite super! We weren’t sure if you were coming!”

Peter pushes aside the pang he gets in his stomach. _You didn’t disappoint him. Everything’s fine_.

But then Wade’s eyes zero in on the gift in Peter’s hands. The calm that he got from swinging, from being in the alpha’s presence, smelling cinnamon and fire evaporates. The fleeting butterflies in his stomach turn to angry wasps. Wade’s head tips to the side. “Hey,” he says, voice almost sounding cautious. A complete one-eighty from a moment ago. “Whatchya got there, Spidey?”

Peter clutches the box to his chest. _Oh, god_. He should have just brought Wade some tacos like usual. _No_. Peter wants to give Wade the present. He’s been nervous, yeah, but he’s also been really excited to finally give it to him. But the weird edge to the alpha’s voice has him sweating. Why does Wade have to pick now to act so unlike himself?

“It’s, um—I got you a present,” Peter mumbles.

Wade hums, deep and thoughtful. His scent goes _nervous_ , something Peter has never smelt coming from Deadpool. It’s weird, the total opposite reaction he was expecting. Peter really doesn’t like it, makes him feel like he’s doing something _wrong_. “What kind of present?” the alpha asks.

Peter looks down at the colorfully wrapped box. The little Captain America shields sparkle even this high above the streetlights. “A birthday present.”

He’s so tuned in to Wade’s scent that the change from weirdly nervous to outright confusion is as clear as day. The alpha’s masked head tilts to the side. “What for?”

Now Peter’s the one getting confused. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten Wade anything. Peter clears his throat, “Because it’s your birthday.”

“When?”

“Today.”

There’s a tense moment of silence, and then Wade finally starts acting like himself. He hops up into the air and claps his hands together. “Oh my, God! Really? My birthday? Why didn’t you tell me, White? What a surprise! How old am I? Actually, no. Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know!”

He snatches the present out of Peter hands and twirls around with it, squealing. A huge smile stretches across Peter’s face from both watching Wade practically leaping around the rooftop and from the _ecstatic_ scent coming off the alpha, making his usual fiery scent turn a little bit stronger. “I haven’t gotten a birthday present in years! Spideeeeeyyyyy!”

And then Wade runs up to him and scoops him up in his arms to spin him around, too. Peter screeches with surprise, his hands and feet clinging to the Kevlar of Wade’s suit. For the millionth time, Peter is thankful for his Spider-man mask, so Wade can’t see how red his face gets around him.

Insane sounding giggles leave Peter’s mouth. He really can’t take much more of this. He feels almost light-headed from the pure _happiness_ coming from the alpha. “Put me down!” Instantly, Wade stops twirling, and lets Peter slip to the ground. “Sorry, Spidey. This is just—you’re the best.”

Peter’s cheeks smart from smiling so big. “Go ahead and open it,” he says.

Wade sits down right there. With a chuckle, Peter follows. Wrapping paper flies, but he doesn’t miss the way Wade saves a small piece and quickly tucks it into one of his pouches. The box lid is the next thing to get tossed into the air. Peter catches it with a web and pulls it towards him because heroes don’t litter.

Wade pulls the shirt out of the box with a flourish and holds it out in front of him. It’s not much, but it was something Peter felt comfortable giving him. A t-shirt doesn’t scream _I have the worlds biggest crush on you, occasionally stalk you, and want to have your babies someday_. Which was one of his real concerns while trying to think of what to get the alpha.

It’s white, short sleeved, and patterned with a variety of little pictures of Mexican cuisine, like tacos, nachos, burritos, churros, ext. The little pocket over the left pec area is Peter’s favorite part. On it is written _Tacos > Everything_, and peaking out of the top of the pocket is a little Deadpool chibi giving a thumbs up.

Peter starts blabbering, because of course he does. “I used the same tech that helps me design my suits, one of Mr. Starks fancy machines at the tower. I had to remake it three times to get it right.”

“Three times?” Wade’s voice cracks. He’s running his fingers over the fabric, studying it like it’s a dossier for one of his more exciting jobs.

“Well, yeah. The first time I did it wrong, and then the second time it came out in my size which wouldn’t fit you at all, you know? Cause you’re, um, a lot bigger than me.” Peter clears his throat. “Anyway, um, yeah. Happy Birthday, Wade.”

Wade wipes at the mask under his eyes as if he’s _crying_. Which would be ridiculous, right? But maybe Peter would cry, too if Wade got him a birthday present. The alpha pulls him into a side hug that lasts a few seconds too short of perfect. “This is hands down, the best present I’ve ever gotten,” Wade says. “Even better than when Yellow surprised me with a set of new pistols.”

Peter tries not to get too caught up in all the good feelings and scents that cover the two of them like a cloud. “I’m glad you like it,” he says, and then skips ahead to something else, because for once, he really doesn’t want to make a complete fool of himself. “How was Yellow able to surprise you, though? Doesn’t he live in your head?”

Wade waves his hand in the air. “I know, right? I think White helped him.”

Cause that makes more sense.

It turns out that patrol that night is exciting. The _happiness_ never leaves Wade’s scent, even when they’re chasing down mutant bug creatures. Peter even swears that Wade starts looking at him different between slicing up one dog sized beetle and the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it probably wasn't clear, but Wade was worried in the beginning about Peter giving him a present because he thought it was like a legit courting gift instead of a birthday gift. And Peteys still not old enough yet, so he was worried. 
> 
> And now I really want the shirt that he got. Who else?


	5. Defending One's Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! I didn't mean to take this long writing this chapter, but it's finally here! I'm not sure if I'm totally happy with it. Trying to write Peter kind of out of it was a bit hard, but here we go!!
> 
> Next chapter is the last one from Wade's POV :D

Peter’s having a bad day, and it’s only ten in the morning. He barely got any sleep last night, his body aches from fighting the Rhino one on one, and to make everything worse, his stupid preheat symptoms are starting.

So basically, everything hurts and he’s dying.

He wants to be making up his nest at home and ordering the entire menu from the Chinese restaurant that Clint ordered from last week. Spidey swears he can still smell it in the Avenger’s communal kitchen at the tower. Which is where he’s at now, sitting on a stool in front of the island counter, hording three slices of someone’s left over pizza, two boxes of Cheese Its, a box of cereal, and a half-full gallon of orange juice.

He doesn’t even care that the Fantastic Four are there, and that they can see him wearing his favorite, worn sweatshirt over his suit and acting like a cliché hormonal teenager. The only reason that he made it out of his bed today is because Mr. Stark wants Peter to meet Mister Fantastic, AKA Dr. Reed Richards, AKA one of Peter’s scientific idols.

Okay, so, he is excited about meeting Dr. Richards. He’s even excited about meeting Susan Storm and Ben Grimm. It’s Johnny that’s the problem.

They’ve met a few times, fighting big baddies or going to one of Mr. Stark’s parties. Peter doesn’t want to say that he hates the guy. He just doesn’t particularly like to be around him all that much. He’s really pushy, always tries to get into Peter’s space, asks him too many personal questions, says one too many obnoxious come-ons.

Right now, he’s leaning across the same counter that Peter’s at, hands way too close to his stash of food. Peter wants to growl and snap at him, but the last time he did that, Johnny only laughed like Peter was flirting back. Which just proves how stupid the Human Touch is because Peter’s got the bottom part of his mask pulled up so he can cram food in his mouth. Johnny should be able to smell that Peter is one hundred percent not interested.

_Idiot alpha._

Even if he didn’t have the biggest crush on Wade for pretty much all his teenage life, he wouldn’t be interested in Johnny Storm. Johnny, who laughs when Peter scowls at him and crams half of a pizza slice into his mouth. Johnny who reaches for one of his Cheese Its boxes like Peter hasn’t already claimed it for himself. He backs off at the growl Peter refuses to hold back, but only a little.

Peter’s seriously considering pulling a Wade and solving the problem by breaking Johnny’s entire arm right then and there.

 _Mr. Stark should be here soon to introduce you to Dr. Richards,_ Peter tells himself. _Don’t hurt Johnny before then. This might be your only chance to meet and talk to Mr. Fantastic._

For a moment, Johnny actually backs off of Peter’s snacks, but then he’s right back to it, fingers inching towards the jug or orange juice. This time Peter reaches out himself to snatch up all his snacks and drag them even closer to himself so they form a weird wall between the two of them.

Peter glares up at the blonde, daring him to try again, but Johnny’s attention is fixed somewhere else. Specifically, on the arm Peter has wrapped around half of his snacks.

“Where’d you get that hoodie from, Spidey?” the alpha asks. “Looks a little big on you.”

A little big is an understatement. It’s the same hoodie that he took from one of the closets in this very same building a few years ago. Plain black, hangs down past his knees and over his hands, smells completely like Peter, but used to smell like a certain alpha that scents like cinnamon and fire and gunpowder and probably Mexican food.

It’s Wade’s. He’s wearing Wade’s old hoodie.

Usually Peter deflects in these situations, but screw that. Peter is sick of dealing with this alpha. He’s too tired and on edge. And Mr. Stark seems to be taking his sweet time. Him, Bruce, and Dr. Richards could be knee deep inventing a new, life changing technology for all he knows.

That’s why Peter says, “Deadpool.”

Johnny’s laugh sounds more like he’s choking on his own spit. Which kind of makes Peter feel nauseous. Stupid preheat. Stupid, annoying alpha.

“Ha—What?” the alpha finally chokes out. He rubs at the hair on the back of his head, his scent going sour.

Peter crunches his nose up at the smell and rips off another piece of pizza with his teeth. “It’s Deadpool’s,” he says, voice muffled with cheesy goodness.

Johnny shakes his head. “Very funny, Spidey. There’s no way you’d even talk to a psycho like that.”

And that’s the thing that makes Peter snap. That little insult of his…his friend, has Peter hurtling across the counter and punching Johnny in the face. The alpha’s nose crunches under Peter’s fist. Peter’s growling, vicious and enraged.

Who does this alpha think he is? Ruining Peter’s snack time and insulting Wade? He knows that he must be stinking up the whole kitchen with his angry omega scent, but he doesn’t care. Just like he doesn’t care that there’s blood running down Johnny’s face and onto his perfectly pressed shirt.

Johnny looks over at Peter, complete surprise on his face. “What the fu—?”

Peter’s loud growl cuts him off. “Fuck you!” he snarls. “Wade’s not a psycho! He’s a way better alpha than you are! You can’t even take the hint that I am not interested!”

In the tense silence that follows, Johnny’s sparkling blue eyes darken like storm clouds. He wipes away the blood from his face with a napkin from the counter. The scent of anger and humiliation seeps from the alpha and into the room.

 _Good_ , Peter thinks.

And then the scent of aggression bleeds in with the other emotions. Peter swears that the room gets ten times hotter. “Oh, and you’re interested in Deadpool, are you Spidey?” Johnny growls out. “Wearing his clothes like that, being stand-offish to every other alpha who comes near. I’m sure that he knows if you’re going around like that. Does he not feel the same way?”

Peter feels something in him crack at that. It’s painful enough that he can’t help the whine that sounds from his throat. Peter’s not great at dealing with angry, aggressive alphas around his preheat. It’s one of those weird things that makes his chest seize up and his brain go full on panic mode.

Having mentioned that the alpha he’s been pining over for forever doesn’t want him back, well, that’s even worse. That’s a million times worse. Peter breathes hard, breaths puffing out like he’s just ran from one side of New York to the other. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s going to do; tear Johnny apart or dissolve into a sobbing, screaming mess. Whatever it is, it’s not going to be good.

The burning of tears starts to fill his eyes, and then the kitchen door bursts open.

“WHOA! What’s happening in here?” A loud, boisterous voice says, a voice Peter would know anywhere. A voice that turns darker with each word. “Wait, don’t tell me! I heard the whole thing.”

With his preheat starting, Peter just about melts in the large, perfect alpha’s presence. His insides get all weird and fluttery and he really needs to sit back down like right now or there’s going to be a repeat of the Doombot Incident.

Too bad his legs don’t seem to get the picture. Peter stumbles as he rounds the counter, but then Wade’s there, because of course he is. He grabs under Peter’s elbow and guides him back to his chair. If Peter wasn’t entering preheat he’d probably feel rightfully pathetic, but as it is, his inner omega is practically swooning just like his outer self.

The abrupt change in his emotions leaves him feeling dazed. He’s gently pushed down to sit in front of the wall of snacks he abandoned in order to punch Johnny in the face. A few seconds pass where he watches Wade’s glove-covered hands switch out his half-eaten pizza slices with a bowl of sugary cereal.

“—Spidey? Spidey? Hey, web-head?”

Peter swallows a bite of his cereal and cranes his next back to look at Wade. “Yeah?”

Wade’s eyebrows raise behind his mask. “Are you okay, or should I kabob the Human Matchstick?” He talks slow, slower than Peter’s ever really heard him talk, probably in an effort to get through the omega’s muggy mind.

The omega looks over at Johnny, all but having forgot the other alpha as soon as Wade walked into the room. He’s still standing on the other side of the counter, red smeared on his chin and eyes comically wide. Whether it’s from being in the same room with Deadpool after the merc heard Johnny insult him, or if it’s from Peter’s reaction to Wade, he doesn’t know.

And he doesn’t really want to know either.

“I think he gets the picture, now,” Peter says, cheeks full of cereal and eyes narrowed in dislike. A small part of him would love to see Wade kabob Johnny, but he chalks it up to his stupid preheat hormones going all caveman on him. “Besides, Mr. Stark should be here soon. He’s going to introduce me to Dr. Richards.”

Wade comes around from the Peter’s back to sit in the chair next to him. He’s so close that Peter can feel the heat of him. It makes him practically melt in his seat. “Yeah? Are you guys going to have a huge smarty pants nerd fest?”

Peter elbows Wade in the side and huffs. “I hope so. You got a problem with that?”

Wade holds his hands up in a ‘I come in piece’ gesture. “Of course not, Spidey. I’ll stay here and keep Johnny company. Maybe teach him a little about being a good alpha. Do my duty for all humankind and whatnot.”

Peter nods along, not really paying attention to what exactly the alpha is saying, more just enjoying the sound of his voice. Then he’s distracted by the tingling across his spine. It’s not from danger, but from anticipation. Peter all but shoves the remaining cereal into his mouth and stand up. He’s already heading for the elevator when JARVIS’s voice announces. “Spiderman, Mr. Stark would like to see you in his lab.”

Peter makes sure to give Wade a wave before the elevator doors shut between them, happy to get away from Johnny and even happier to finally get to meet one of his idols. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to moondustriver for the suggestion of Peter defending Wade! :D


	6. A Return of Interest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaannnddd here it is, everybody! The last chapter from Wade's POV! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting and for sticking with this series. You're all amazing!! <3

Despite what most people believe, Wade’s a good guy. He likes eating Mexican food, dancing in the rain, taking long walks on the beach, singing on rooftops, and just about anything to do with killing bad people. He’s learning to not unnecessarily hurt anyone even if they suck. And today he’s cleaned his already spotless apartment.

It’s in a nice building. Penthouse with a balcony big enough to fit a couch. An open kitchen and living room, two full bathrooms, and three bedrooms. Wade’s had the place for years now, but this is the first time that it’s been fully furnished and cleaned. There’s even a few decorations set up around the place.

_And a few thousands worth of dollars of stolen Stark security cameras and alarms and the beginnings of some AI technology that we’re really hoping Spidey can get working._

_**Don’t forget the bullet proof windows and the bomb shelter-like front door. Oh, and the crazy, ugly mercenary that lives here, too.** _

“And the camera’s we put in the elevators and at the front door and on the balcony.” Wade sighs, satisfied. “Peter’s going to be the safest little omegas in the continental US.”

**_And one of the most spoiled._ **

_I can’t get enough of that view!_

There are amazing views of New York City out of every window. Wade can picture standing in the kitchen making breakfast and watching Petey swinging between buildings on his way home from a long night of patrols. To make it even better, Avenger’s Tower is visible from here. Which, thinking about Stark’s overbearing protectiveness, Wade’s already having second thoughts about, but he thinks that Peter like it.

_**If he doesn’t, we’ll burn this place down.** _

Wade nods along. “Have to save these pictures first, though.”

There’s an entire wall of them like one of those fancy collages in designer magazines that Wade has stolen from the Avenger’s Tower’s waiting room. Except instead of happy heterosexual families with fat babies and three dogs, it’s pictures of him and Petey. In costume and out. Together and separate.

He was even able to get a few pictures of Peter with Aunt May. The woman was more than happy to make him copies. She practically handed over their entire collection (which Wade spent an entire day cooing and squealing over). Peter was the cutest, nerdiest little kid that Wade has ever laid his eyes on. But now the box of pictures is hidden deep in his weapons room where Peter can’t find and throw away out of embarrassment.

His omega is too precious.

_Hey, boss, you’re phone’s ringing._

“Fuck!” Wade hurries to answer it. If his messed-up skin could still produce sweat, he would be dripping onto the pristine wooden floors.

_You disgust me._

“Hey, baby boy!”

“Hey, Wade,” Petey’s sweet voice comes through the speaker, a hint of Wade’s favorite sass in each word. “I’m outside the mysterious apartment building you told me to meet you at. Where are you?”

Maybe this isn’t the most romantic way to go about this, but Wade couldn’t really think of anything else besides to just have his omega to show up so Wade can show him the apartment.

_We could have gone with my idea._

**_Oh, yes. Your plan to knock Spidey unconscious and have him wake up in our new bed that doesn’t smell like either of us. Him having a panic attack would be so romantic._ **

_Wow. Just, wow._

“Wade!”

Wade pokes furiously at the elevator button. “Sorry, Petey. It’s the elevator’s fault!” “What eleva—?” The doors finally open, and Wade jumps through only to jab at the button for ground floor. “I’ll be there in two seconds! MWAH!”

Wade stuffs his phone in his hoodie pocket and mumbles to the boxes, making finger guns at the tiny camera he installed on the back wall in the top left corner, and fanning out his sweatshirt in an attempt to get rid of some of the nervous scent pouring off of him. It takes longer than two seconds to get to the ground floor and out onto the sidewalk in front of the building, but he tells himself that it’s okay. Peter’s used to Wade’s exaggerations.

His awkward little omega is standing up against the building out of pedestrian’s way and staring down at his phone like the millennial he is. Wade doesn’t even need to say anything to get his attention, because Peter’s head pops up as soon as he steps foot outside the door.

They aren’t even mated yet, and Petey can pick out his scent amongst the busy New York street life.

_So fucking perfect._

**_What do you expect? The kids been set on us for years._ **

_I repeat, fucking perfect._

Peter heads towards him immediately, not even letting Wade get completely onto the sidewalk. Not that he cares. The other pedestrians can suck his Glock. Especially when Petey grabs at his hoodie and pulls him down into a kiss. Wade hums against his omega’s lips and smiles. It took a little bit for Peter to get comfortable with the intimacy stuff with Wade, usually turning into an anxious pile of goo in front of him, which was adorable, but they’re doing better now. More than better, actually.

Peter pulls back and smiles up at Wade. “So, what are we doing here, outside of a fancy apartment building that you just walked out of, looking like you own an apartment in there or something?”

Wade snorts. His omega is too smart for him.

_That’s why we should have done my plan._

Ignoring the boxes, Wade gestures dramatically towards the door. “Why don’t we go in and I’ll show you?”

The _happy_ , _excited_ notes to Peter’s regular scent have his inner alpha puffing out its imaginary chest. For years he’s been forcing himself to hold back all of his courting instincts. Witnessing and acknowledging all of Peter’s unconscious gestures without returning them has been torture on both him and his inner alpha, but now Peter is old enough and they’ve worked most of their stuff out. They’re on the same page.

And this is going to be the courting gesture to end all courting gestures.

_And then we’ll finally mate our precious omega and live happily ever after kicking bad guy butt and raising twenty mutant children like Cap and Bucky._

**_Now that’s a plan I can get behind._ **

Peter’s loud gasp brings him back from baby dreamland. The elevator doors have opened, and his precious little omega is staring out at their new living room in awe. Wade rubs the back of his head. He had this entire speech planned out for their elevator ride up where he’d go on and on about how Peter is the only omega for him and that he got this apartment for them years ago, and all this other gooey shit. But now Wade spent the elevator ride in silence, completely consumed with picturing little mutant babies and thinking about how they’re going to need an even bigger place to live, maybe even something like the Xavier mansion to fit everyone.

Peter steps through the elevator opening the second the doors begin to shut “Th-this is your new apartment?” he mumbles. “It’s so big.”

Ignoring the _That’s what she said_ from Yellow, Wade catches up to Peter in one big stride. “Yeah,” he says, gesturing around wildly. “We gotta have enough room. With all my weapons and all your nerd shit. I already filled up one of the extra rooms myself.”

**_Yeah, because that’s what all the extra space is for. “Weapons.” HA!_ **

_Do you think Spidey will lay eggs?_

“No, he’s not going to lay eggs,” Wade hisses back. Then he looks up at a blushing Peter (which is always a wonderful sight). “You don’t lay eggs, do you? Like baby spider eggs?”

“I don’t think so,” Peter mumbles distractedly.

Somewhere in Wade’s rambling, they’ve ended up in front of the fancy wall collage. Wade clears his throat. “So, yeah. Um, you can move in whenever your ready. No rush!” Peter’s head snaps around. He stares at him with wide brown eyes. “Only if you want to!” Wade hurries to backtrack. “You don’t have to live here. Or with me. Ever. If you don’t want. I’m not going to make you!”

Peter rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips in a sassy pose. “As if you could make me do anything.” Then a blinding smile takes over his omega’s face. “Your amazing and this is crazy. How much does this place cost? You know I don’t care where we live, right? And, yes, of course, I want to move in with you, but I don’t need all of this.”

**_Where are the matches, boss? I’m ready! Burn, baby, burn!_ **

Wade shakes his head around. Peter isn’t rejecting him or the apartment, he’s just surprised and worried about money. That’s enough to have Wade back to his excited, hyper, annoying self. He grabs up Peter’s hand and pulls him further into the apartment. “I don’t remember how much. I’ve been paying for it for years, waiting until you were old enough. But you know money isn’t a problem, baby boy, and I want to get the best for you, but if you don’t like it, we can find some place else.”

 _Surprise_ and a fresh burst of _happy_ fill the air. “You’ve had this place for years?”

Wade smiles down at him in adoration. “I’ve told you like a trillion times how crazy I was and still am about you. Even when it was weird and creepy and made me feel like I should skin myself alive like I do to the real perverts out there.” Wade might have tired doing it to himself once or twice, but the memories are a little blurry. He pulls Peter through to the sparkling kitchen and gestures around to the different appliances like he’s trying to sell his fancy, shiny wares. “I think I bought this place after you got me food that one time.”

Peter snorts, pink high in his cheeks. He looks kind of high, like how he used to when he’d get close enough to smell Wade’s scent before he got more used to it. Relaxed but wired. Still, Wade can tell how much the omega wants to go riffling through every drawer and cabinet until he’s touched every single thing. “Which time?” Peter asks, sounding a little breathless. “I remember getting you food a lot.”

“The first,” Wade says softly.

Peter is momentarily speechless, eyes all wide and scent all jumbled up with surprise. “I—I didn’t think you even liked me back then.”

Wade should have expected that. All the years of holding himself back, of not obviously returning Peter’s courting behaviors. He’s talked it out with Peter at least five times now, but his anxious, insecure omega still has his doubts. Peter’s still nosing around the cabinets. Wade takes a second to watch him before grabbing at the omega’s arm and pulling him into his chest. He smiles down at Peter.

“I’ve always liked you, baby boy.”

There’s a moment where Peter looks like he’s going to argue, but then he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I know,” he says, looking at Wade’s chest while tangling is fingers in the bottom of his hoodie.

_So, fucking cute. We’re never letting him leave the apartment._

**_Does he like it? Ask him when he’s moving in._ **

“Soooooo,” Wade drags out, nodding along with the boxes. “What do you think?”

Peter takes a deep breath and looks around the kitchen. “Just to clarify,” he says, making Wade snort at how much of a nerd he is. Peter ignores him. “You bought a huge, expensive apartment like five years ago for the both of us to live in together.”

“That’s right, baby boy.”

Most normal people would probably find that fact very…disturbing. Red flags popping up in a million places level of disturbing. But things are rarely normal in either of their lives. Life as an above average mutate and all that jazz.

The weird slash adorable sound of his omega purring fills the kitchen. Wade swears that he does it at least ten times a week, but Peter still gets all embarrassed and pink-cheeked about it. “It’s perfect, Wade. Thank you.”

The rush of happiness that goes through Wade is enough to make the boxes melt along with him. After pulling Peter into a breathtaking kiss, Wade squeals excitedly. “Oh my god, Petey. I have so much to show you. I got us themed blankets! Spiderman and Deadpool blankets! Come on, let me show you!”

“Okay, okay!” Peter’s giggles trail through the now full apartment, filling it with _joy_ and _love_ and sweet lemony, vanilla goodness. Wade doesn’t think that this could ever get any better.

_Don’t forget about all the Spidey babies, Boss._


End file.
